They walked around the side of the ancient building to a more modern annexe. The vicar was waiting for them, holding the swing doors open, and he ushered Aksel through to the quiet, comfortable lounge. There was a long, upholstered bench seat at one side of the room, and Aksel carefully laid Mary down, while Flora fetched a cushion for her head.
‘Mary, love....’ John knelt down beside her and took her hand, but Mary snatched it away. Aksel laid his hand on John’s shoulder.
‘She’s confused, John. We just need to keep her calm at the moment.’
‘Is there any tea?’ Mary tried to sit up, and Aksel gently guided her back down again.
‘The vicar’s just making some. He’ll be along in a minute.’ His answer seemed to satisfy Mary, and she lay back. Aksel kept talking to her, reassuring her and keeping her quiet.
Flora’s phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. Charles sounded as if he was in the car, and she quickly told him where to find them.
‘That’s great. I’ll be there soon, and an ambulance is on its way too...’ The call fizzled and cut out, and Flora put her phone back into her pocket. Maybe Charles had just driven into a black spot, or maybe he’d said all he wanted to say.
‘What’s the matter with her, Flora?’ John was standing beside her, waiting for her to end the call.
‘I’m not sure, but it seems to be a result of the bump on her head.’ Flora didn’t want to distress John even further by listing the things it could be. ‘We need to keep her quiet. Charles is on his way and the ambulance will be here soon.’
‘What have I done...?’ Tears misted John’s eyes. ‘She said it was nothing. She seemed a bit subdued, but I thought she was just cold. I was going to take her to the pub for lunch as soon as I’d finished with the customer I was serving.’
‘It’s okay. In these situations people often try to deny there’s anything wrong with them and they’ll hide their symptoms. And they’ll push away the people they love most. We’ll get her to the hospital and they’ll help her.’ There was nothing more that Flora could say. If this was what she thought it was, then Mary was gravely ill.
John nodded. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Has Mary taken any medication? Did she take something for the headache?’
‘She didn’t say she had one. And, no, she tries to avoid taking painkillers if she can.’
That could be a blessing in this particular situation. ‘No aspirin, or anything like that? Please try to be sure.’
‘No. Nothing. I’ve been with her all day, she hasn’t taken anything.’ John shook his head.
‘Okay, that’s good.’ Flora smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Now, I want you to sit down and write down exactly when Mary bumped her head, and how she’s seemed since. Please include everything, whether you think it’s important or not.’
‘Right you are.’
Maybe John knew that Flora was giving him something to do but he tore a blank sheet from one of the stack of parish magazines that lay on top of the piano and hurried over to a chair, taking a pen from his jacket pocket. Maybe the details would come in useful...
Flora knelt down beside Aksel. ‘You should go and get Mette now. I can manage.’
Flora didn’t want him to leave. Her own medical knowledge was enough to care for Mary until Charles arrived, but he was so calm. So reassuringly capable. But however much Mary might need him, however much Flora did need him, she knew that he couldn’t leave Mette.
‘One minute...’ He got to his feet, striding towards the door. A brief, quiet conversation with someone outside, and he returned.
‘You’re sure you want to stay?’ Aksel had obviously made a decision and from the look on his face it troubled him a little. But he’d come back.
‘Carrie’s going to take Mette and Kari back to the clinic and I’ll meet her there later. She’s in very good hands.’
‘Yes, she is. Thank you.’
He gave a little nod, and knelt back down beside Mary, taking her hand. Flora had to think now. She had to remember all the advanced first-aid courses she’d been on, and the physiology and pathology elements of her degree course. She took a deep breath.
Leaning forward, she looked for any blood or fluid discharge from Mary’s ears and nose. Checked that she was conscious and alert, and noticed that her pupils were of an unequal size and that a bruise was forming behind her ear. Then she picked up Mary’s hand.
‘Can you squeeze my hand, Mary?’
The pressure from Mary’s fingers was barely noticeable.
‘As tight as you can.’